


The Weeping Reaper

by Destroyed Innocence (A_Dying_Wolf_Dying_With_Dignity)



Series: When Sanguine Tears Fall [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Needs A Hug (except Irvine), Gen, Harassment, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Matthew Needs A Hug More Than Anybody, Mental Instability, Miss Christen Needs Jesus And Not Just Because of Her Title, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Ruth is probably the only stable character but she's a side character oops, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Dying_Wolf_Dying_With_Dignity/pseuds/Destroyed%20Innocence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident that took place in the beginning of his middle school life results in Matthew facing bullies every day after that. He must face being beat up, humiliation, and, worst of all, "supplementary lessons" with his teacher, the man who turned his life into a living hell.</p><p>In hopes of not having to put up with this twisted routine anymore, he one day finds a doll representing one of the school's legendary spirits and prays to her, wishing for his classmates and teacher to be dead. Then, he learns that after an incident on that may lead to him becoming one of the legends the students of the school love and fear so much.</p><p>When the spirit who goes by the title of the Saintly Deceiver actually answers his call, Matthew must decide on what he is willing to do in order to make his wish come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Tea For Blood

            "You've been awfully excited lately, you know."

            "Oh my, am I really _that_ easy to read?"

            The two girls sat across from each other in velvety armchairs with cups of tea in their hands. A fire roared to life in the fireplace, acting as the only lighting in the room. Without a table, they set the plates underneath the cups on top of their laps. One girl held an indifferent expression. The other, on the other hand, smiled brightly, but this smile did not reach her eyes.

            "I'm not here to play any of those games of yours."

            "No need to fret, I know you're not. What I do want to learn, however, is why you are bringing such a topic up. It's not like I've done anything."

            "That's right; you haven't done much of anything since last month. The thought of you idling around makes me sick."

            A shrill giggle. "My dear, how can you accuse me of being lazy? I'm hurt, hon, I'm very, very hurt." A mock pout.

            A scoff. "You make me sick. I know you're not hurt. You've never been emotionally hurt unless _they're_ around, heaven knows why."

            "More like _hell_ , dearest." She sipped what was left in her cup of tea and swallowed it all in one gulp. She sighed. "Would you like some more tea?"

            "I suppose so, thank you."

            "But of course. A proper lady must see to that her guests always receive grand hospitality." Raising her voice, she called out towards the opened door leading into a dark hallway. "Lilliana, more tea, sweetie!"

            "Y-Yes, my dear," a timid voice replied in the hall. Immediately, another girl by the very name that was called entered the room, dressed in a maid outfit and holding a tray of tea. How she was able to make tea in only a couple seconds remains unknown for now. "I brought you ginger with honey on the side, my dear. I hope this is acceptable."

            There was suddenly something off about the girl with the smile on her face, particularly with her eyes. Although the room was already dark as it was, her usually bright eyes became darker in appearance. No light shined in them. Lilliana quivered at the sight, but carefully walked towards her without spilling the tea. The girl sitting across from the smiling one curled up in her seat, obviously uncomfortable with this new aura. While Lilliana poured the tea, the two continued their conversation.

            "As I was saying earlier, you've been excited lately. Why is that?"

            "Don't you ever listen to Conductor's words? Every five years, something _tragically spectacular_ happens in which _all of us_ are involved. I honestly cannot wait to see what happens this year."

            "Huh, I guess I understand why you're so excited, then. I'm aware of the old man's predictions. I mean, you said I came here on one of those five-year marks, right?"

            "Ah, right, you are! I can remember it now like it was yesterday, fifteen years ago!"

            The girl without the smile made a slight scowl before her face went back to showing little emotion, only providing an aura of hostility. She would rather not recall the time her life was ruined by the hostess of their tea sessions. As much as she did not like her, they were still like ordinary girls, becoming bored easily that even spending time with each other was better than doing nothing. Of course, she had her own preparations to make for a time after the five-year mark is said to come around, but the girl before her had plans for the time coming very soon.

            Her gaze turned to the maid finishing up on pouring her cup of tea. Lilliana was a girl the hostess took pity on a few weeks back. She felt sorry for her and had an idea of how she felt. She must be feeling humiliated as some girl's servant, but that was how the hostess treated whoever she decided to take in. By the way the hostess was acting around her now, she sensed only misfortune for the maid coming soon.

            There was a loud sipping sound before a soft hum resounded. No particular emotion could be detected from that. "Lilliana, darling, what kind of tea did you say this was again?" the hostess asked.

            "G-Ginger with a side of honey, my dear," the maid replied. "I-Is the tea unsatisfactory in any way-"

            The guest did not even blink as she heard skin and bones being torn apart and watched it happen before her eyes. The hostess kept a disturbingly calm expression as her nails sharpened into long claws that ripped through Lilliana's chest with ease. The poor girl's screams did not last long before they stopped and her body went limp. Her eyes remained wide open in shock and fear as she fell to the floor. Along the way down, she knocked the teapot over. Blood and tea stained the rug with an enormous, ugly reddish-brown stain.

            She knew Lilliana would only last for so long.

            "My, such a shame, I was hoping she would be able to block that. It seems I didn't train her well enough." The hostess was now standing up from when she briefly towered and killed the maid. She stared down at the blood and bits of entrails on her hands and digging under her recently polished fingernails. The whimper she emitted was similar to that of a puppy's. "Aww, my manicure is now most likely ruined."

            The girl across from her folded her arms without making her teacup on her lap move even the slightest. "So, this is what happens when your pets don’t know what sorts of tea you like?"

            "I've told her countless times that I don't like ginger and I will not simply take honey as an extra with the usual cream and sugar on the sides. She should also have remembered that I only like _milk teas_ , preferably _hot_ , and _then_ I'd like some honey."

            "Geez, you're such a spoiled brat. Who died and made you the mistress of this place?"

            "Too many people to count, hon; we've all had to kill countless others to get to where we are. My kill account may be high, but I am still only in third place." She shrugged. "Oh well, it's better than being in _last of the first_." The final four words she said were made out slowly so that each letter could be heard distinctly. It drove the female guest off her tipping point.

            "Why you little-" Chugging down her tea in two large gulps, the previously serious girl produced a vile glare with a snarl to match after setting her cup onto the rug by her chair to make sure it did not break. She stood out of her seat. "How dare you insult my place among you!"

            A knife dropped into her right hand from up her sweater's sleeve before she swiped in a horizontal motion. It flew straight at the hostess, aimed for her heart, but with incredible speed and reflexes, the blade was caught by the very tip between two fingers. The hostess looked at her reflection on the side of the silver edge.

            She barely caught her knife when it was thrown back in her direction, succeeding in grabbing the handle with just her thumb. She also barely had time to protect her face from the hostess's claws as they slashed for her. The sleeves of her sweater were the only victims of the action. All of the small throwing knives she had been keeping up there were soon exposed and falling to the floor.

            They stared into each other's eyes, calm versus wild, cool versus heated. Neither blinked nor moved a centimeter from the stances they paused in. While the guest stared with the rest of her face covered by her arms crossed in front of her, the hostess had her claws out and by her side with a smirk replacing her smile. The stare down lasted for quite a while until the grandfather clock in this room chimed five times to signal the beginning of daybreak outside.

            It was the guest who caved in first. She looked away from the other's eyes, unable to stand looking at them for so long. Rather, she soon found Lilliana's corpse more interesting to look at. As much as she hated to admit it, this girl was still far too much for her.

            "Tell… Tell me about your plans… for the five-year mark," she said, implying that she was admitting defeat in a battle she knows she will never win even if she tried. Her fists clenched, but she calmed down enough to relax her fingers. "You have something planned for when it comes and you said Conductor said it would include all of us. So, tell me about what you have in store. Who's your next victim going to be?"

            Smiling instead of smirking now, the hostess giggled softly. It made the other flinch. "I need someone better than Lilliana. Lilliana was a good girl while she lasted, but she's failed my training. I need someone who can control themselves but still easy, if you understand."

            "You're looking for someone more fragile than Lilliana?"

            "Precisely. Her story was quite interesting to listen to, I must say. She had a very kind mother who was still strict enough to want her to be absolutely perfect in everything, especially when it came to dancing. Then when she had an accident on a sabotaged stage during a recital that broke her leg and making her no longer able to dance, the lady only saw her as a disappointment. Her dance instructor was revealed to be the culprit behind the sabotaging because she wanted to get rid of her, as she was obsessed with perfection as well."

            "That's really lame, if you ask me."

            "Oh, but you should have listened to poor Lilliana when I came to her. She wanted to kill her former instructor for destroying the one thing she believed she could have been perfect at and for destroying her mother's faith in her. There was this irresistible determination in her, you see."

            "But as it turns out, she was too scared to even try and seek the revenge she thought she wanted. You thought you could push her by taking her in as both a pet and an apprentice."

            "Then, the more mistakes she made, the angrier I got inside that my plan was not working. Of course, I wouldn't dare show how truly enraged I've been."

            "And in the end, you killed her."

            "And in the end, I killed her."

            "So, your next course of action is to find someone who is most likely to fall through with their wishes, even if it means you still have to give them a couple pushes here and there."

            "Ah, darling, you have always been my brightest pupil."

            "Enough of the praise, _Miss Christen_ ; I'm not hearing any of that. What I want to hear already are your plans for the five-year mark. Do you have a target in mind?"

            A smile reached the hostess's eyes. "I do. _He's_ just what I'm looking for."

            Then, laughter.


	2. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew was shirtless and lying there on his side. The beams of the moon identified the darkest spots on his chest and back, as well as the new scars left behind from tonight. His back was colored just as the moon found it – blue and black, with only a few faint spots of white. They did not show how red his cheeks were flushed – only how dark they were – nor did they show what remained of his previous injuries from the past – only how they were gradually fading. His face was, thankfully, left untouched by his teacher's brutality, easily revealing the milky white tears running down his cheeks even when he did not make any sound of crying.
> 
> Satisfied by his "work", Irvine smiled slightly, as if Matthew was not in this sort of position but simply holding a conversation with him. He stared at him with this smile, one that could be considered sincere if he was not the cause of the boy trying to balance the feeling of numbness and pain sinking into his body.

            "Idiot, you spilled some of the water!" one of the girls giggled as she and her friends chased each other around the classroom. The desks were stacked by the walls so some of the students selected to stay for cleaning up after school ended could clean the floors. This also prompted a few of them to play around a bit, thereby resulting in the increased mess.

            Checking to see if any of them got hit by the spilling water used for mopping, most of them turned to one lone student who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. His shoes were soaked down to the insides of his socks which now hugged his feet uncomfortably.

            "Well, will you look at that?" a boy snickered. "It seems you got yourself wet now, Mattie. Would be a shame if something else happened to you, right?"

            The boy standing still in the center of the room, while the other students now gathering in front of him, stared at the ground. His hair, a shade of blonde close to a darkened shade of gold, framed his face. His long cropped bangs covered his eyes. Small hands covered in scruff marks from lunch today gripped the handle of his mop tightly.

            He'd rather not look at any of them, even if it means not expecting whatever may come to him now. Though he was scared, his body did not shake. His feet sticking to his socks, however, were shaking from how cold the water was.

            More water splashed against him, this time wetting his shorts. A large, noticeable stain was left behind between his legs. His thighs locked together, slowly rubbing against each other even if that did nothing to rid him of the irritating rash forming in the inner areas.

            "Look! Mattie peed his pants!" A girl burst into laughter and soon the rest of her peers joined her.

            Still, the boy kept his head down and his face out of sight. The light from the sunshine outside shined on him, brightening the color of his hair and revealing a shadow over his face. They could see something wet glisten against his eyes.

            One of the other boys chuckled. "Mattie's crying! You guys see that? What a baby!" More laughter filled the room before the students dropped their brooms, cloths, and mops on the ground.

            "We've got a life, unlike certain people," said a girl. She placed her hands on her hips and smirked. "We'll leave the cleaning to you, if that's alright. See ya 'round, Mattie!"

            Soon the boy was left alone in the classroom with the grip on his mop tighter than ever. Most boys his age would deem it childish to cry like this, but what else could he do? It wasn't like he was able to do something, anyways.

            No matter what he could do, he was sure no difference would be made.

            No matter what he could do, he was sure that any efforts would be futile.

            So many people wanted him dead, anyways, he was sure of it.

            For the longest of time, even dating back to his elementary school years, Matthew was sure that his classmates wanted him dead. Many of them pushed him around and made fun of him whether it be during class or out during recess or lunch, sometimes even going as far as to harass him whenever they had to line up in their assigned numbers based on their last names.

            There were more bullies to come for Matthew. Every year his class would pick on him. Every year his teachers would want to say something, but they are soon kept quiet in hopes the bullying died down.

            And, eventually, it did die down.

            Why that is?

            It is because the humiliation of being beaten down or teased expanded to other areas besides the classroom and the playground. It had moved on to the routes Matthew takes when he has to walk home from school every afternoon, to the library where he is forced to be quiet while he takes what he is given, to P.E. on the days students got to pick teams for games.

            Eventually he came to face reality as it was, and that no one could ever save him from this nightmarish life of his. There was no use trying to fight. All he had to do was endure everyone long enough for him to complete middle school, and then maybe he could attend a high school far away from these bullies, perhaps even one that was outside of the city.

            He was sure, though, that his classmates would have already killed him by then.

            At least he still had some time before his inevitable death to clean up the now lukewarm water spilled all over the floors. He could at least do that as a favor to the classmates who hated him yet were counting on him to finish the job.

            Wiping away the tears trickling down his cheeks in tiny streams, Matthew set to work.

            On top of one of the supply closets sat a tiny figure hidden in the shadows. A pair of eyes piercing through the dark gazed intensely at Matthew as he began to mop the floors. These eyes did not blink nor did they twitch in any way; one might even say that they were lifeless yet full of life at the same time. They observed the boy's each and every move – the way he curved his spine every time his arms motioned for his mop to move in certain directions, the way he often sighed when he was growing weary of his work but kept going anyways, and the way how sometimes he would intake a breath and let out a shaky exhale, as if he was nervous or afraid of something other than the bullies.

            These eyes soon saw what Matthew was so afraid of – or, in this case, who.

            "Did you volunteer to clean up this room all by yourself?"

            A smooth, deep voice made the boy jump. The eyes hidden from view could now see the little shakes running through his body. This man, with neatly combed blond hair several shades lighter than Matthew's as well as bright green eyes, placed a hand on the younger's shoulder.

            Matthew had jumped.

            The man smiled.

            "You didn't answer my question, Matthew," he said. Then he repeated himself. "I asked if you volunteered to clean our classroom up all by yourself."

            Matthew gulped, refusing to turn around to face the man whom he knew far too well. He gathered up little bits of strength in his body to nod his head.

            "Yeah, I did, Mr. Irvine," he finally replied.

            The eyes hidden from view watched over Matthew and the man who went by the surname of Irvine converse quietly, though the figure which these eyes belonged to could hear the conversation very well. Still, they could only make out small parts of when the two began to whisper to each other.

            "… Two blocks away, as usual… one hour from now… Bring a... _Or else_ …"

            "… I know… I understand… Okay… Yes, sir…"

            Irvine's lips curled into a smirk as he patted the younger one's shoulder, enjoying how he jumped and quivered before him. The eyes watching them both especially paid attention to this man's actions. His effect on Matthew was rather intriguing. The figure the eyes belonged to wondered what their relationship could be.

            By the look of things, it did not look good for him.

            After Irvine exited the classroom, Matthew continued to work without any knowledge of whatever was watching him at that moment. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to worry about everything else around him.

            _Why… did it come to this?_ he thought. _How did… things turn out… like this?_

            He supposed he had only himself to blame for this. As long as he endured this until middle school graduation, all this pain would go away then. He just had to be patient.

            Yes, he just had to be patient, even in his times of desperation.

            By the time he completed his job, the pair of eyes which watched over him were gone.

oOo

            "It's interesting how even when this place was abandoned, there has been no effort to take it down, not even after years of no maintenance or renovations."

            Irvine pressed his hand against the wall, feeling the old cracks touching the skin of his palm. He pulled it back and stared down at some of the dust that got on it, which he wiped away on his jacket hanging on his arm. Some of the particles were brushed back into the air.

            The bathroom was dark and dank. The floors were smeared with crusted up pieces of mud and dirt with dust bunnies in the corners. The walls, cracked and chipping apart, showed signs of mold in the higher places. Everything was illuminated by the moon shining through the murky windows above each second stall, coloring the area in white, black, gray, and a faint midnight blue.

            "Adding a new, larger school building without getting rid of this older, smaller one is quite a waste, isn't it?" The man shrugged. "Oh well, you and I can use this place as long as it stands here until something is finally done about it. If we can't recycle this school, then we'll just reuse it instead."

            He turned away from the wall and looked deep into the fourth stall out of the six which were in the rundown men's bathrooms of this abandoned school building. A small figure lay on the floor with the moonlight coming in.

            "Don't you agree that my idea is understandable, Matthew?"

            "I… do… s-sir…"

            Matthew was shirtless and lying there on his side. The beams of the moon identified the darkest spots on his chest and back, as well as the new scars left behind from tonight. His back was colored just as the moon found it – blue and black, with only a few faint spots of white. They did not show how red his cheeks were flushed – only how dark they were – nor did they show what remained of his previous injuries from the past – only how they were gradually fading. His face was, thankfully, left untouched by his teacher's brutality, easily revealing the milky white tears running down his cheeks even when he did not make any sound of crying.

            Satisfied by his "work", Irvine smiled slightly, as if Matthew was not in this sort of position but simply holding a conversation with him. He stared at him with this smile, one that could be considered sincere if he was not the cause of the boy trying to balance the feeling of numbness and pain sinking into his body.

            _Since when… did it come… to this living nightmare?_ His mind decided to toss him a question he already knew the answer to.

            The answer could be found in a memory, one which occurred many months ago, about a week after the students were returning from summer vacation to begin a new year of school. Matthew was hoping that now that he and the other students were growing up, the bullying would end and he could finally make friends. It was a naïve thought like this that got him into more trouble, however.

            He ended up encountering the newest bullies to add on to his list of who picked on him, who had an axe to grind with him. He did not expect them to still be angry over the series of accidents that took place in the beginning of the school year that made them to be his bullies in the first place. He tried conversing them, explaining how they should just let bygones be bygones, but that did not help him out of the predicament he was soon in when he was pushed up against the lockers.

            And then came his savior at that time, Albert Irvine, who managed to get the boys to stop their nonsense against Matthew before any real damage could be done.

            " _You two are supposed to be twelve to thirteen years old, maybe even fourteen_ ," he had told the two bullies. His tone was stern at that time, a tone which miraculously made the boys immediately realize their guilt towards their actions. " _I suggest you two act your age before I decide to call in the principal._ " He made them face Matthew, who stood there in genuine surprise. " _Can you find it in yourself to forgive them while they apologize?_ "

            Matthew was elated at that time. He could finally be free of this curse which brought him misery that he never dared to speak of aloud because fear pressured him to stay quiet. This streak of bullying was going to end as soon as he gave his response, which was a definite yes followed by a nod.

            " _Yeah, it's okay._ "

            It is believed that an immense amount of good luck one moment can lead to an immense amount of bad luck in another.

            This was proven to be true a few days later after school had ended.

            " _Now look what you've done, Matthew._ "

            Irvine was the first teacher Matthew could find nearby the music room he had wandered into many minutes ago. They stared at the mess he caused when he was searching for a light switch in the dark, at the remains of what used to be some of one of the previous school principal's prized possessions which used to rest on a shelf dedicated to the school's past music prodigies and beloved musicians in general.

            A cracked picture frame was one of these possessions. The golden-colored framed with its glass covering would be easy to replace, as it is a common frame and the picture inside was kept intact. This was the least of Matthew's worries.

            There was the trophy this principal of the past won when he was a student who attended this school; according to the stories heard, this was won in a national music championship league. With some glue and some polishing, it would look as if the silver music note at the very top had not broken off. This, as well, was the least of Matthew's worries.

            What took up the majority of his worrying, his fear, was this principal's most prized possession of all: an expensive violin crafted by hand from Germany, one which the principal had played with all his life before retiring from both music and from being the principal back then. He gave this to the school as a goodbye present, as a gift to the place where he was able to let his musical talents grow and blossom.

            It was such a valuable violin that there was no way these pieces could simply be glued back together. Matthew was horrified by the trouble he has caused, when all he wanted was to find the music teacher to see if he could sign up to be part of the school's advanced orchestra.

            " _Help me, sir_ ," he begged softly to the teacher. He stood there with his head hung down, his bangs close to covering his eyes, and his hands limp at his sides. " _There's got to be something I can do to fix this!_ "

            Matthew's chin was tilted up so that he was staring straight at Irvine, who was down on one knee to reach eye level. The hand which was gentle in doing this was removed. The man's smile was so reassuring and so hopeful.

            Ironically, his words did not have the same effect on him.

            " _To make up for this, starting tomorrow, you will be bullied by whoever chooses to target you. You will also agree to take 'supplementary lessons' after school every day. Also…_ " Irvine's smile remained, though it seemed as if he was ready to pull his lips into a smirk any time now. Meanwhile, the relief in the boy's eyes had long since faded away.

            " _If you choose to accept this offer, I will pay for the damages as well as for a new violin to replace the one you broke using a third of the money from the paychecks I receive every month. Do we have a deal, Matthew?_ "

            During that time as well as now, Matthew regrets ever accepting the deal, but there was nothing he could do. His family could possibly not have enough money to pay for and replace such an expensive violin, especially while his parents were always out of the house because of work until finally coming home in the early mornings. Even if he were to simply borrow money, who would he have turned to? The school would have already punished him greatly for committing this crime. It was not like he had any friends to share his problems with, either.

            Irvine was his only option.

            Irvine was doing this as a favor.

            And in exchange, he was to put up with this until the payments were settled.

            _I'll just have… to live with this… until it's all finally over…_

            When his senses finally returned, Matthew managed to sit up and look about the bathroom stall he was in. His teacher must have left him already to clean himself up, as usual. He leaned on to one side until his shoulder touched the wall. For a few minutes he sat there, unmoving, only shifting around slightly to check to see if there was still numbness anywhere on his body, and then began to put his shirt and sweater back on. He did not want to stay in this haunting place for another moment.

            The man he first met at school was different compared to true beast behind him, he thought about as he checked his arms in the moonlight for his new bruises. Why he had to be the victim to this beast, he was not sure, but the beast terrified him. He was stronger and wiser, and Matthew had no power over stopping these meetings.

            _And… he also has the camera…_

That was right. Irvine videotaped him doing such embarrassing things, having persuaded him to believe that this would also get the former principal to forgive him for breaking the violin. He had been told to reveal how thin he was to the camera, when his skin was untouched by dark spots or red marks…

            He shook his head out of those thoughts. He refused to let himself remember all that happened that night. By then he was already almost home and the moon was high in the dark sky. A cool breeze brushed by, easing him. Once he gets home, he can have something light to eat before he would have to finish his homework and go to bed. It was already somewhere around seven or eight, he believed since he did not have a watch on him, so hopefully there was someone waiting for him.

            But, when he opened the door to his house – one that no student would ever believe he lived in because of how big and glorious it was both inside and out – the entire place was empty and dark. His parents both held night shifts of the companies they worked for, and most times they returned home early in the morning before Matthew would wake up to get ready for school.

            As soon as he checked the kitchen, he already understood that he would have to order takeout for dinner tonight, as usual.

oOo

            "Mr. Irvine is so cool!"

            "Oh, I know, right?!"

            There began the chatter of some of the girls in Matthew's class while they had a brief relaxing period between classes. The students were up and about in different areas of the classroom that he finished cleaning all by himself the previous day. Before the break period, their teacher was telling them of when he was in high school, of how he was well liked back then as well and how well he did in his classes.

            Matthew preferred to remain silent and stare out the window where he sat at his desk. Irvine was outside on the basketball court with members of the school basketball team. He impressed them with skills which matched theirs until he finished his performance off with him jumping high and dunking the basketball through the hoop.

            No one knew who that man really was, no one but him.

            He looked up to find one of his classmates, a long-haired brunette named Amanda, standing in front of his desk, leaning forward on it. She splayed her hands flat out on the top, her light blue-polished nails showing, to maintain a balance. Her eyes shined mischievously, as did her smirk.

            "The girls and I are kind of jealous of you, Mattie," she said. "Mr. Irvine is such a cool guy and he's a great teacher, that it even makes us jealous that he spends so much time with you. After all…" Her left hand was raised, and then it descended and the palm landed atop the crown of his head. "It's sometimes hard to turn a blind eye towards the bullied." She pouted. "Oh, I shouldn't word it like that, because then I sound like a bully."

            _Well, you are one already_ , he thought. If he were to say that out loud, god knows what would happen to him then.

            Some of the other students began to gather around his desk to joke around about what Amanda had said. The best he could do was put up a nervous smile and wish they would leave him be soon. He did somewhat enjoy the company, but he had a feeling that this would not end as well as it may seem.

            "I'd rather be a bullied kid if it meant being with Mr. Irvine so much," Amanda said, making Matthew come out of his thoughts to listen to the conversation. The way she said that, it did not sit well within him. How could she say such a thing when she knows what they were doing to him and even joining in on those things?

            "No way would I do it!" Amanda's friend Miya exclaimed whilst shaking her head, her black pigtails swaying along. "Even if I wanted Mr. Irvine's attention so much, I wouldn't want to face being bullied!"

            Around them, the boys and other girls alike began to name off the "cons" to being bullied as if there were even any "pros".

            "Other people wouldn't like you or talk to you!"

            _I already know that feeling._

            "Things could be thrown at you, or maybe you'd get beat up!"

            _That's already happening to me._

            "No one would want to be your friend because they're afraid of getting bullied too!"

            _So no wonder no one's ever stood up for me._

            "You'd be isolated in a corner of the classroom all day!"

            _Today I don't feel as isolated as usual, at least._

            "In the end, you'd be absorbed by your own desk and become one of the legendary spirits of the school, one where you'd haunt this very desk and anyone who comes by it!"

            The others began to laugh at what Miya had said this time.

            "You're right," Amanda told her friend. "If you were absorbed by your desk because of too much isolation, it'd be like the birth of a new school legend, the newest addition to the school's mysteries. Then there would be five school legends in all."

            In the far back of the classroom, a pair of eyes appeared and opened once more. The figure these eyes belonged to was obviously aware of the legends as most of these students were.

            Matthew blinked slowly at the mention of the school's mysterious legends. He did not know much about each of the legendary spirits which are said to be haunting this school, only that there have been said to be the birth of the first legend decades ago, when the abandoned school building was not even built yet and another one was standing before a fire destroyed it. Then two legends followed the first a few years after, one after the other. There was also the story of how a pair of twins suffered the same fate, but a feud between the two ended with only one of them standing.

            Yes, this boy knew the basics at least. The eyes, despite their lifeless expression, shined with intrigue.

            "Oh hey, did you hear about what the school librarian said today?" one of the boys asked the others. They promptly shook their heads. "She was talking about one of the legends this morning, the one where there's even a doll for it."

            "That's the Saintly Deceiver, right?" another boy spoke up.

            The eyes paid attention to what they were to talk about next.

            He nodded. "Yup, that's her! The librarian said, 'She looks so excited today! I wonder why.'"

            Amanda laughed softly. "That can't be, the Saintly Deceiver's doll is expressionless! It'd be pretty weird, right?"

            In hopes of trying to get along with them now, Matthew tried to speak.

            "Y-Yeah… strange-"

            "Hey."

            Looking up, the boy found that Amanda was holding one of the pens that was lying on his desk. The tip was pointing down before him. She smiled softly.

            "School legends don't butt into other people's conversations."

            As a sharp yelp of pain resounded, followed by cold laughter, the eyes disappeared again.

oOo

            The bandages on Matthew's hand did not irritate his skin as much as the rubbing alcohol did when the nurse disinfected the wound on his hand. He traced over the back of his hand, particularly over the spot where Amanda used his pen to make it bleed. Of course he could not tell the nurse this, because then he would get into even more trouble, so he had to lie and say he was fuming over some classwork he did not understand and accidentally stabbed himself in the midst of his frustration.

            It was a very believable lie, considering how average his grades currently were.

            During the time he was in the infirmary getting his hand fixed up, class had already gotten back into its next session. The nurse decided to let the boy take this period off and rest for a while, believing that it really was classwork that caused this accident.

            "Or you can go to the library for some relaxation," she suggested.

            Matthew chose the library and left the infirmary with a hall pass.

            The place was a very standard library, with its shelves towering a few feet over most of the students' heads and many tables placed about in an open area. Matthew often went to the library for peace and quiet. He liked to read whatever books interested him, which were whatever the school librarian recommended.

            The young woman, a kind one by the name of Ruth, could be considered as Matthew's only acquaintance. Unlike the meaning of her name, she was not a friend of his due to their positions at school, so they did not spend much time together. She was the best he had as to someone who made an attempt to like him, at least.

            "Hello, Mat," Ruth greeted quietly. Even though they were the only two people in the library, they had to maintain the rule of remaining quiet. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the counter. "Say, what brings you here during second period?"

            He held up his hand as a silent response.

            She widened her eyes and fixed her glasses. "My, my, that's quite a _handful_." Neither could help but laugh softly at her horrible pun. "Oh- Oh goodness, I am so sorry that was terrible of me."

            Matthew shook his head. She was one of the only people who could make him smile genuinely like this. "No, it's fine, it was still great. I've gotta _hand it to you_ , you do know how to make me laugh."

            It was useless holding it in any longer. As long as they were the only ones inside the library, they should be able to burst into laughter and let it be however loud they wanted it. They leaned against the counter as they stood on opposite sides, laughing at such horrible puns that neither could handle it.

            When the laughing died down, the two sat on the counter together, back to back, with books in their hands. The puns had lightened Matthew's mood greatly that he was able to enjoy his book in peace. He flipped the pages as he read with ease. A good book always kept him stable if he was still able to maintain stability even when he was close to crack.

            Ruth closed her book hard after a long while of reading, a loud thump resonating throughout the library. She hopped off the desk and stared at the younger one before pulling her wavy auburn hair back. She smiled as she did this, her fingers expertly threading through until a somewhat messy bun was formed.

            "You wanna meet the Saintly Deceiver, don't you?" she teased him, having obviously been watching him eye the doll sitting on the bookshelf a few feet behind her since he first entered the library. She smirked and patted the top of his head gently. "You don't have to say a word, kid. Let me get her down and you can meet her."

            The librarian pulled out the chair which was not set on wheels to place it near the high bookshelf. She carefully placed one foot after the other on the seat until she was standing on it. Reaching up and even balancing on her toes a bit, she managed to pull the doll towards her hands until she grabbed it. She cradled it in one arm before climbing back down and returning to the counter.

            "Whelp, this is her."

            The doll appeared to be made of bisque porcelain, giving her a complexion of smooth and light – close to white – skin. Her cheeks were blushed like faded roses and her lips were a soft pink, bringing out her skin even more. Her hair was of medium length, straight and smooth, a bright golden blonde the way the shade of the sunshine was like during the summer.

            Matthew was especially drawn to her eyes. They were large, circular, a blue as clear as the sky on a day where no cloud would be in sight for miles. They glimmered and shined when they reflected against the ceiling lights at the correct angle, making them the most unique feature she possessed. They were absolutely beautiful, yet at the same time rather disturbing. Whenever he tilted his head from one side to another, the eyes seemed to follow him.

            "Can't you see how excited she looks?" Ruth asked him. He nodded slightly. "Oh good, I thought I was the only one who saw!" She brought the doll closer to him. "Do you know the Saintly Deceiver's story?" He shook his head. "Okay, so it looks like it's story time!

            "According to her history, the Saintly Deceiver was originally a kind eighth grader, just one year older than you, who lived three decades ago. Then one day, a fire started at a schoolhouse which existed before the older one was even built, and that fire killed many students from her class. One of these students is believed to be that eighth grader's best friend, but her body was never recovered from the remains, and so she was soon classified as a missing person.

            "Unable to cope with her friend's sudden disappearance and the possibility that she may have died in that fire, the eighth grader began to declare that she was dead, but her spirit could not be found and so she is unable to ascend into heaven. Her personality changed from overall sweetness to a façade where she was only sweet on the outside; deep inside, her soul became tainted with hate once investigators gave up on her friend's case, even after she made them promise that they would never stop until her disappearance was solved once and for all.

            "The cause of this girl's death, however, is unknown. Some say she died in a fire she set in her own house. Others believe she hung herself at school. Whatever the cause was, it involved committing suicide with the possible intention of searching for her friend as a spirit." Ruth shrugged. "No one knows how she ever died, but that never stopped her legend from forming from there."

            "What happened to her after she died?" Matthew asked.

            Ruth smiled softly. "The girl's soul was tainted with so much hate that she became a twisted spirit dubbed the Saintly Deceiver. It is believed that if people came across her, she would appear as her original kind self and ask them if they had any problems she could help solve. She would later possess and kill them, and then consume their souls."

            Matthew hummed, staring into the eyes of the doll before him. Her name made sense. She would look sweet and "saintly", but this was only how she was on the outside. This was her lying self. When she would kill her victims, she was exposing her true self, the horrible truth. He had to admire her for being able to conceal herself so well.

            "How do you know so well about her?" he questioned the librarian, who giggled softly.

            She set the doll down on the counter in a sitting position. "This doll was crafted by my great grandmother, who was a teacher at the school the Saintly Deceiver attended before the building burnt down. After that, she decided to spend her free time crafting dolls until the new building, the one currently abandoned, was constructed and ready to be used. She passed this doll down my family's generations until I got it."

            "Oh, okay. So your family had a part in that time."

            "You bet, kid. And as long as I'm praying to the Saintly Deceiver to reassure her that I don't need her 'help', nothing bad is going to happen to me! If I do ever need help, though, all I have to do is pray to her and wish for a miracle. She is still somewhat 'saintly', after all, and she does watch over many of the students here."

            Ruth left after that to organize some of the books which were returned to her earlier this morning. She pushed the small cart of books away, to the near back of the library, leaving the doll and Matthew alone.

            "So, you can grant wishes," he muttered, speaking to the doll as if she were a living person. He gulped and brought his hands together, lacing his fingers together, and held them close to his chest. "I've got a wish for you, then."

 _Even if it won't come true_ , he thought.

            His hands clenched as he stated his wish in a soft whisper.

            "Saintly Deceiver, you've watched over us. You've seen what my classmates do to me, and what Mr. Irvine does to me. If it's possible… can I…"

            He gulped again, trying to form the words as quietly as possible, but still out loud so his wish can be heard.

            "Can I wish for them to all be… _dead_?"

            As he looked up, he stared into the eyes of the Saintly Deceiver. He felt a rush of strength to keep going. The doll wanted to be reassured of what she was hearing.

            "Is it possible… to _kill them all_?"

            He liked this feeling as much as it was suffocating him. He was smiling and choking at the same time. Everything before him was becoming blurry but he enjoyed it.

            Surely, the Saintly Deceiver, if she really did exist, was pleased. She was pleased by his motives and was already sending him power. This had to be the case, right?

            Right?

            "Maybe… with your help… they can all die horrible deaths _by my hands_?"

            There was sudden ringing in his ears, similar to the sound of childlike laughter. This feeling of being disconnected from himself made him wonder who was laughing.

            Was it him, even when he could not feel the laughter rising from his own throat?

            Or… could it be…

            Realizing he had tilted his head down whilst praying, he looked up. The librarian was right, the doll did look excited. It can be seen in her eyes. This excitement reflected into his own eyes now.

            Could it be that… the doll was the one laughing?

            "You've listened to my wish, Saintly Deceiver," he said with a soft smile. He began to calm down. Oxygen flowed freely through and out of him. "If you can be so kind as to grant it, I'd be very grateful."

            Once again, the world was clear as day. Matthew stood straight up and remained there, smiling at the doll. Ruth appeared to still not be around, so hopefully he did not cause too much noise while he was in this strange trance.

            His wish had to have been heard, though. These legendary spirits had to exist, for sure, just like how the legends stated about them must be true. He believed this.

            And, even if he simply went crazy right then and there, the insanity he felt gave him confidence that perhaps one day he can kill them all, just not yet.

            Not yet.

            When the bell rang, he looked down at his bandaged hand. It seemed to be fine enough for him to use the piano in the orchestra room for music class today. He called out to Ruth to bid her a "Have a nice day" before leaving the library.

            The eyes from his classroom appeared again, shining as joyous as ever. The figure these eyes belonged to has finally found the perfect person.

            The time to act would be soon, but for now the eyes can only watch without them being seen.

            The waiting game has begun.

oOo

            Laughter filled the bathroom of the abandoned school that night, nearly drowning out the thumping sounds and the splashing of murky toilet water. Irvine was stressed out by school today, as usual, so he needed something to take his frustration out on.

            So, like every night, he met up with Matthew. However, tonight he was more brutal than he usually was. Whatever happened today must have placed an immense amount of stress upon his shoulders.

            Over and over, the man used the bottom of his right foot to push his student's face into the filthy toilet water each time he pulled his head back up for air. Matthew choked on the water that has not been cleaned for years since this place was closed down. He was sure that if he tasted this for a moment longer, he would throw up soon.

            "It seems no matter how stressed I turn out to be by the end of the day, I'll always have you to help me find relief," Irvine said between his chuckles. Crouching down, he grabbed the boy by his hair on the back of his head and pulled him away from the toilet. "So, I really must thank you, Matthew, for always bringing me relief."

            Matthew's side was kicked until he was lying on the tile floor. He choked his tears as well as the bile rising in his throat. He could not throw up, he just could not. Irvine would surely make him do something if he threw up; perhaps it would be like the first time he did so, and he was forced to eat it off the ground.

            Where was the confidence he had earlier today back in the library? Where was the laughter, the rush of strength? Where was the power he felt like he possessed earlier?

 _It had to… have been… a… lie…_ he thought to himself. He coughed as the front of Irvine's foot met his stomach with excruciating force. He clenched his eyes shut. _It was… all in… my head… It had to be…_

            He was unsure of when he passed out, but when he opened his eyes again, his teacher was gone. Once again, it was all over for the day until the cycle would start up once the next day comes for him.

            Only able to move slowly, he managed to sit up and scoot himself to lean against the nearest wall of this large bathroom stall. He curled up into a ball, his knees touching his chest, his well beaten stomach now protected even though the damage had already been done. At least he was sure no bones or internal organs have been broken or ruptured inside of him, and at least he found it easy to breathe no matter how it hurt.

            Constant beatings and being humiliated has taught him that it does not matter whether he was a boy, a girl, or neither. He should be allowed to weep for however long as he liked. So, he did just that.

 _My wish can't come true if it continues to be like this!_ his mind shouted. _It's not like the Saintly Deceiver will do the job for me._

            He remembered the energy he felt the more he voiced his wish, of how he wanted his classmates dead. The spirit, whoever she really was, must want him to act like this in order for the wish to be carried out.

_That's… right… I can only grant my own wish… It wouldn't be easy for someone like me to kill them all, because I'm weak…_

_But, maybe, if I… became one of the legendary spirits… then my wish will come true!_

            He smiled through his tears, ground his teeth together to hear the top and bottom sets grind and push against each other. He liked that sound.

            That would be how they would die.

_I'd break their bones… chew them up like food… Then, I'd kill them!_

            His hands moved up into his dirtied blonde locks. He yanked at them as he pictured all these glorious images searing into his head. He felt a strange sense of solace in these thoughts.

_They will die just like that! Break them, chew them, kill them! All that carnage would leave a pretty big mess, but it would look really nice when I do it! Then, as the spirit I'd be, I'd devour their souls!_

_I'll devour them all!_

oOo

            "Hey, hey, did you hear?"

            "What're you talking about?"

            Matthew did not pay mind to the girls striking up a new conversation at the end of school the next day. Today was not his group's turn to clean the classroom after class – like the others in his "group" did anything to help, anyways. This would mean that his meeting with Irvine would take a shorter amount of time, and he could go home right after.

            He felt good today. Perhaps releasing his anger through his manic thoughts last night helped. It did not feel healthy for him, but it certainly did feel nice. Never has he had such thoughts until yesterday, after all.

            "Did any of you hear about what happened?"

            "No, I haven't. What happened?"

            It seemed this conversation was being spread to the boys of his class as well. It did not seem like the chatter would end here, so he might as well get a little hint on whatever was now happening around the school.

            "A new legendary spirit was found last night!"

            His eyes widened.

            So did the eyes staring down at the class in the far back, its figure perched on its usual spot on the top of the storage closet.

            "Ooh, really?! That sounds exciting!"

            "Yeah, yeah, and the name given is so cool and scary!"

            "What is it?"

            Matthew kept packing up, acting as if he was not listening in on the conversation at all. He wanted to hear this. This new spirit was already perking his interest and he did not even know of the basic story behind it.

            "Some of the eighth graders were the ones who came up with it."

            "I think I know what you're talking about. What was the name of the spirit again?"

            "Um… I forgot, sorry."

            "Don't worry, I don't know about the story, but I do know what it is!"

            "Cool! What is it?"

            "Yeah, what is it?"

 _What is it? What is it? What is it?!_ his mind cried out.

            "I heard they call him the Weeping Reaper. Have you heard the story yet?"


	3. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her smile wavered a little as if it was going to turn into a frown, but that did not happen. Instead, it appeared sad and disappointed. "It's such a pity, though."
> 
> "'Pity'?"
> 
> "Yes, it is a pity." She raised her right hand until it was parallel with her shoulder. "It's a pity that the Weeping Reaper… is said to be a human." In one swift and fluid motion, her hand returned to her side.
> 
> A flash of light shined and faded away as quickly as it had come during this.
> 
> Everything went dark.

_As the moon shined high in the night, a seventh grade boy was dared to enter the abandoned schoolhouse alone by his friends. Not wanting to seem like a coward, he accepted the challenge and went through the front door._

_This was the beginning of his foolish decision._

_The seventh grader was scared, being by himself in such a place at this time of the night, but all he had to do was take a picture of the different rooms he stepped inside on the first floor. Only then would he be allowed to leave. He used his camera to take pictures of the classrooms, of the cafeteria, of the library, and of the gymnasium. All that was left was the bathroom, which he saved for last since it was near the entrance._

_When he entered the boy's bathroom, he thought he heard shuffling in the dark. He kept on walking, believing it was just him stopping in his tracks. He was overestimating how scary the building seemed; if he kept thinking like that, he would be even more scared than he already was._

_He heard the shuffling again, following by light weeping, when he reached the front of one of the six stalls. The weeping grew louder._

_And then, he heard the voice call out for him._

_"You there," whimpered the soft male voice. Before the boy could process if this was real or not, the voice spoke again. "Yeah, you, in front of my stall…" There was a sniffle. "I am but a weeping spirit. Listen to my sorrowful story, so that soon I will not have to endure this pain any longer."_

_For a while, the boy remained silent and glued to where he stood. He could not get himself to say anything, do anything. It was making the voice on the other side of the closed stall sound impatient._

_"Well, what will it be?" the voice asked, volume rising slightly. "Will… Would you…"_

_Suddenly, the voice boomed its question._

_" **WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR MY SORROWFUL STORY?!** "_

_Legs shaking, throat turning dry, the boy finally managed an answer._

_"S-Sure…"_

_He laid his hands on the closed door, and with a soft creak he realized it was unlocked. The stall was suddenly yet slowly brought wide open, even when he pulled his hands away. He wondered who was standing in the stall._

_Unfortunately, that was the last thought on his mind before…_

"CRUNCH! went his arm!" the teller of the story exclaimed, making his small audience jump around him. He smirked at their reactions. "That guy was lucky to get out of there alive with just a broken arm. When he was asked by his friends about what happened, he told them that there was this black figure made of shadowy swirls that reached out and grabbed his arm and twisted it until it snapped!"

Miya whined softly, shifting uncomfortably where she stood. "That sounds like a really scary spirit," she said. She looked to her friend. "Right, Amanda, wasn't that scary?"

Said friend was currently on the floor, having tipped her chair back so much before she was freaked out by their classmate that she fell to the floor. As it could be seen, she did not appear to have any injuries. Matter of fact, her head was propped up by one of her hands bent up by her elbow. She looked up at Miya, having not moved since she fell, and nodded in agreement.

This had been the latest story among students of the school since the previous day, when on the night before that, a stupid dare led to a boy breaking his arm when he was sure he saw a ghost in the bathroom. He first told his friends when they had to take him to the hospital, and soon his friends spread the word around until even the ninth graders were convinced that the birth of a new legendary spirit has taken place. Soon the teachers caught wind of the story and began telling their classes that they have nothing to worry about, that this was just some story a person made up to cover up the fact that he must have simply tripped and broken his arm while he was paranoid in the dark, and that the story was made up in the first place due to his fall leaving him with a concussion, so his memory must have been hazy and created that absurd tale; this then led to the discussion of how no one should ever be at the abandoned school building.

Matthew had been silent since the uproar began. His classmates were so absorbed by this possible development of a new spirit that they barely picked on him all this morning ever since he first heard the conversation after classes ended the day before yesterday. Of course, he had to have his "supplementary lesson" with Irvine last night, but the previous day was still quite a good one for him. If his parents were home as well, it would have been nearly perfect.

For the time being throughout this morning, he had been thinking. The story was told the day after it happened, during the nighttime. It has been two days since it happened.

What did he do on that night, again?

A shiver ran up his spine as the memory came back to him.

Right, he was curled up in the bathroom stall, trying to numb the pain he was feeling after Irvine left him when their "lesson" was over. He was thinking about the wish he made to the Saintly Deceiver doll in the library during the afternoon of that day, and then taking that situation and thinking about how his classmates would die.

_I'd break their bones… chew them like food… Then, I'd kill them!_ That was what he was thinking about.

He was grinding his teeth the entire time his mind was filled with the thoughts of his horrible classmates dying at his hands. Even now, he was feeling the energy surge through him, even if the amount was not as much as it was on that day.

Carefully analyzing his memories, he remained still at his desk, a new thought dawning upon him.

_Is this story… about me?_

oOo

_I'd tell them about how terrible they all are until they're on their knees and begging for forgiveness! By that time, I probably would have broken half of all the bones in their bodies, maybe even more. They would see… They would finally understand my pain before I kill them!_

On the night before the previous one, when Matthew was enjoying these grotesque fantasies of breaking down his classmates, he was unaware of how he was still sobbing whilst doing so. He was laughing and crying at the same time, a balance of the pain and pleasure mixing perfectly inside of him, even if his crying was louder.

_I'll even try and lure them in the way real legendary spirits are supposed to! I'll probably say something like… like…_

"You there," he called out quietly with a soft whimper. Yes, yes, he would first trick them just like that. He liked this, liked how his voice echoed softly and bounced off the walls. He continued, planning his trick out loud. "Yeah, you, in front of my stall…" He unintentionally added a sniffle for effect.

He thought for a few seconds. If he was going to be a spirit, he would of course need to be dead. He wondered what he would say to his victims to continue this game.

It did not take long before he figured it out.

" _I am but a weeping spirit. Listen to my sorrowful story, so that soon I will not have to endure this pain any longer._ " It sounded perfect when he said it out loud in that pitiful tone of voice. Yes, but he needed something more, something in case there was no answer at first. "Well, what will it be? Will… Would you…"

He took a deep breath and let it out in a loud, booming tone.

" ** _WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR MY SORROWFUL STORY?!_** "

Yes, yes, yes, that would be absolutely perfect for him to say! This was all coming so well together, and he was not even dead yet. All he had to do was keep this in mind, and he would certainly be feared. He would make a perfect spirit.

… But then again, who was he kidding? There was no way he could become a legendary spirit as long as he was so pathetic. He really did not have the determination to become one, anyways. It was probably just that strange wave of bloodlust rushing into his head.

" _Oh my god, the bathrooms are haunted!_ "

Matthew's eyes widened. There was someone here in the bathroom, on the other side of his stall. He sat there in silence, listening to the other boy mumble apologies.

"S-S-Sorry for disturbing your p-peace or any of t-that, so just return to the dead and go to into the light a-and all that!"

He listened to the footsteps until they became faint until he heard a soft snap in the distance, followed by shouting for help out in the halls.

oOo

It really must be about Matthew. He was there, absorbed by his own madness, letting himself be heard. The timing was rather on point but in the wrong way. Although it is most likely that the change in his voice will conceal his identity, this will lead to students investigating the bathrooms of the abandoned school.

He remained alone at the table in the back of the library, having chosen to study for the upcoming test while the lunch period was still taking place. It was easy for him to collect his thoughts here, this being the only place where he could have some peace and quiet because the other students would be too busy doing homework or reading books. He could think without having to worry about being harassed here.

Whoever that boy was from that night, his encounter with Matthew was the spark of a new spirit possibly being born. Matthew was that very spirit, he believed, because he managed to scare the boy away, even if it was on accident.

Even so, it was not like he had any spiritual powers or anything that could truly make him a spirit who haunts the old school's bathrooms. He was just an ordinary human.

_Still, it'd be pretty cool to be-_

" _Well, look who it is._ "

A chill ran up his spine and his body tensed up. He knew that voice, the voice of the man who made him want to quiver in fear. But he was in the library, a public place. Ruth had to come by and check on him some time.

His eyes darted around, as far as his peripheral vision would allow him. The librarian was nowhere to be seen other than the assistant librarian; she must be on her lunch break now. None of the students were close to him, and those who were at least at the tables around him might see this chance meeting simply as a teacher speaking with his student.

Matthew gulped and exhaled shakily. "Y-Yeah, it's me."

Irvine placed a hand on his shoulder and patted it gently. The man looked over him to view the books and other materials in front of him. "Ah, so I see you're already studying for the test I will be handing out on Friday."

The boy continued to write down notes from the textbook he was looking over, but his hand shook as he was watched carefully under his tormentor's intense gaze. His chest rose and deflated at a slightly quicker pace, close to hyperventilating. He wanted him gone and out of his sight so he could breathe easily again.

_Go away already, please, I'm begging you!_

"Matthew, are you okay?" Irvine asked him, concern in his tone. "It seems you're having some trouble, so how about…"

_No, god, not today! I don't want this anymore!_

"How about… we have some supplementary lessons after school today?"

His heart clenched, hurting his chest. One day was all he asked for, one day where he could avoid the "lessons" not because a substitute teacher would be in class, but because he would be allowed a break.

"You do need the lessons, right?"

Unable to say no, Matthew nodded slowly. "Y-Yes, sir…"

"If that's so, then…" His shoulder was squeezed tightly, making him flinch. "Let's meet at the usual place after classes, at the same time."

Then, as quickly as Irvine came to the boy, he walked away quietly.

As soon as he was gone, Matthew pushed his seat back and bent forward so his chin was close to touching his knees. He took deep breaths until his heartrate settled at least a little. He was close to tears now, but he did not shed any.

No more, he did not want to suffer like this anymore!

He wanted to put an end to this himself, once and for all. He wanted that man behind bars for the rest of his life; or, if possible, he wanted him dead. He just could not stand this any longer. If he were to hold in his secrets for another day, he was sure he would not be able to handle the stress.

_But, I still have to pay off my debt!_

Right, he still needed to pay off for the accident in the music room near the beginning of school. Also, as long as Irvine had that video of him doing embarrassing things, he was bound to him for as long as he was forced to.

"I wonder… if I can actually become… the Weeping Reaper," he whispered to himself.

_Then, I can… kill him…_

His eyes darted up, to find that someone was sitting on the chair across from him at the table. The pair of legs he was looking at was thin and delicate, wearing lacy white knee socks and a pair of pink ballet flats. The bottom of an outfit can be seen as well – a white petticoat underneath a white gown. He blinked in confusion; what girl would be willing to sit with him?

As he lifted his head back up, expected to see the girl across from him.

There was no girl, however. Even when he looked back under the table, he did not see the pair of legs he saw just a moment earlier. Perhaps he was imagining it? Maybe all this talk of becoming a legendary spirit and killing was making him go crazy and see things.

" _Excuse me, but are you the Weeping Reaper?_ "

Matthew raised his head from under the table to finally see the girl who somehow managed to disappear and reappear before him. She appeared to be a lovely girl wearing a pink knit cardigan over her gown. Her hair was a beautiful golden blonde as bright as sunshine – perhaps actually being a flaxen color rather than golden or somewhere in between – and was straight, ending somewhere in the middle of her back with a white bow placed on the right side of her head. Her eyes were what intrigued him the most; they were such a light, rich sky blue, and were large and circular.

She tilted her head as she continued to smile softly at him with her soft pink lips. A golden chain bracelet slid down from her wrist to her forearm when she angled it so her hand could prop her head up. The two stared for a time at each other, captivating each other somehow, even if the boy was sure there was nothing captivating about him at all. This girl, on the other hand, was very beautiful.

Looks such as hers could be considered doll-like, and perhaps unnaturally beautiful.

"Well, are you going to answer me or not?" she asked. Her tone of voice was airy, as well as a somewhat high pitch. "Maybe you'd better understand my question if I said it differently… What is your name?"

"Oh, um, I'm Matthew," he introduced himself.

She tiled her head even more to the side. "As in you are Matthew the Weeping Reaper?"

The boy shook his head. "No, that's not my name."

"Really, are you sure? You mentioned the Weeping Reaper before-"

"You have it wrong, I'm just Matthew. I'm not the Weeping Reaper."

The mysterious girl sighed in disappointment, but her smile remained where it was. "Aw, well that is quite a pity. If he were here right now, I would have congratulated him."

Matthew blinked. "Congratulate him for what?"

"Why, I'd congratulate him for becoming eligible for becoming the fifth legendary spirit of the school, of course!" After this, she giggled softly. It was a rather cute giggle, Matthew had to admit.

He guessed he could understand what she was talking about now. The Weeping Reaper was becoming a popular story among the students here, so its story's popularity was what was making the Weeping Reaper eligible. If the Weeping Reaper became an official legend, then there would be five in all afterwards.

"Say, do you know why there are-"

"- four legendary spirits so far?" the girl said, finishing his question. He stared at her in surprise. That only made her smile grow wider as she stood up from her seat, wandering to the nearest window. Matthew stood up to follow her.

"Legends are conjured by the feelings of the people. Then, the spirits swarm over those feelings in return and become empowered by them in order to grow in their origin stories. In this era, these feelings especially come from children, particularly those who are willing to believe in such stories despite their transitioning out of childhood." Outside the window, the two viewed a trio of students running around the field, chasing each other. "Although the school's legends formed a few decades ago, the students here still believe in the existence of spirits. Therefore, because of the students' strong beliefs gathering up in one certain place…" She turned her head, looking away from the trio outside to Matthew as he stood beside her. "… this has led to spirits gathering here, battling each other in one great, chaotic turf war.

"Among these spirits rose four particular ones who stood out the most within the students' beliefs – their theories and stories and fears and all combined. They are the most famous as well as the most dangerous, for the turf war means battling other spirits in order to maintain the titles received. Many spirits fight one another, but these four are so powerful that they do not need to fight each other.

"If this school was of a normal size then they would only need to maintain their number, but the abandoned building adding onto this one to create one massive battleground has led to the spirits requiring more members. That is why they are considered to be the spectators of this war which continues to wage on much to their entertainment, and they are the judges who decide who should become the next major legend of this school. Only they can figure out which are worthy of the title, of being a legendary spirit both loved and feared by these mortals."

She completely turned away so that her back was towards the window, and she pulled the curtains out to darken the room. "And that is my story."

Matthew smiled slightly at her. "That was pretty cool," he told her.

She blushed. "Oh, did you really like it?" she asked. He nodded in reply. "Ah, I'm glad, I'm glad, glad you liked it!" Her smile wavered a little as if it was going to turn into a frown, but that did not happen. Instead, it appeared sad and disappointed. "It's such a pity, though."

"'Pity'?"

"Yes, it is a pity." She raised her right hand until it was parallel with her shoulder. "It's a pity that the Weeping Reaper… _is said to be a human_." In one swift and fluid motion, her hand returned to her side.

A flash of light shined and faded away as quickly as it had come during this.

Everything went dark.

oOo

Matthew found himself in a black void-like area, the darkness stretching out as if it was endless. The only light there was, was the one shining down on him so he could see. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be anyone or anything nearby him.

It was all so sudden for him. One minute he was still in the library with that mysterious girl, and then as soon as he blinked, he was here. How this was possible, he did not know nor was he sure he would understand if it was explained to him. All he wanted was to go back to the library already.

"Only four seats have been set up in the council of the school's legends for decades now."

The girl whom he met in the library was behind him. Her sudden presence made him jump. She smiled as she always did, but this time there was something dark about it.

"The head of the council has decided that we should find someone to fill up a fifth seat," she told him. She walked around him until she stood in front of him. Her arms were folded behind her, against her back. "He told us, ' _It should be alright to find a new member now, right?_ ' The rest of us agreed. When we first received word about the Weeping Reaper, his unexpected appearance already taking the school by storm, we chose to select him for testing."

She tilted her head, her smile very close to curling into a smirk. "However, we soon came to realize that, shockingly, the Weeping Reaper was not any spirit, but a mere _human_. It intrigued us as much as it did disappoint us." She raised her right hand as she did back in the library, this time to snap her fingers.

Three strings of ivy with prickling thorns shot up from the ground between the two, up to Matthew's height. They twisted around each other like snakes, braiding itself before the tip of the top curled and rolled down until it reached the floor. A crown was formed, and then picked up by the girl.

"It's not the fact that being a human is the problem, though," she assured him without having an assuring tone. She neared him in small steps while he remained frozen in shock. "Matter of fact, you deserve to be admired by the other spirits, especially the council, for stealing the hearts of the children while remaining in this human body…" Finally, she smirked. "It actually makes me _very jealous_."

A cry escaped him when the crown of thorns was pushed down on him, past his hair until it scratched his forehead in the front. It somehow tightened – probably with the help of this strange magic this girl must possess – until the skin of his forehead was pricked and blood began to dribble down his face in tiny ribbons. He tried removing the crown, but the thorns got his hands, and his palms began to bleed as well.

Meanwhile, the girl was giggling, obviously enjoying watching him suffer. "Ufu-fu-fu!" Even when she laughed because of this, it was very light and cheery.

"' _I'm not the Weeping Reaper._ ' That's what you said."

With a step back and another snap of her fingers, more thorny vines grew between them and also behind Matthew. The ones behind him grabbed at his wrists while he was off guard and yanked him down to the ground, flat on his back. The air was knocked out of him.

"You aren't even ready to accept being a spirit, and yet you've continued to steal the hearts of others with a fake identity."

He wanted to tell her that that was not his intention, but he was immediately cut off by a strip of ivy wrapping around his ankles and forcing them together. It tightened until his skin was cut and his blood seeped through the fabric of his pants.

"That's not even the end of it! You've also carried on living as a human without a care in the world!" The girl bore her teeth for the first time, revealing how sharp to the tip they were. "It's absolutely _disgusting_. A bad boy like you should be punished, so…"

She was on top of him in an instant with her knees on either side of his stomach. Leaning closer, she reached out until her fingers curled around his neck and turned into a chokehold. Ivy covered her hands, pricking her knuckles and areas of his neck, though she did not bleed. In fact, her skin remained unaffected.

"If I keep doing this, I'll break your neck bones," she explained. "Once you've properly died, I'll eat your soul! Won't that be _wonderful_?" She stared down at him, paying attention to the look on his face as he gagged and gasped for air. It made her spine shiver with excitement. "If you keep giving me that face, I don't know if I can hold myself back!"

Matthew shifted in hopes of somehow throwing her off of him, but the more he struggled the more the thorns tightened and the more blood left him. He coughed and his eyes watered. If the thorns pierced his neck and hit the jugular veins, he would most likely bleed to death instead of be choked to death.

He was scared. He wanted this to all be a nightmare. The pain all over his body, however, reminded him that this was all really taking place in reality.

"Oh, I almost forgot! I never got to tell you my name, huh?"

A flash appeared before the boy's eyes, a flash of a memory.

Ruth's doll came into mind.

"I-It's… the…" He gasped for breath when she loosened her hold slightly so he could finish his sentence. His throat was hoarse and aching. "You're the… _Saintly Deceiver_ , right?"

The Saintly Deceiver nodded happily. "Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!" she exclaimed. Her grip tightened once more. "Yes, I am the Saintly Deceiver. Not many know this, but…" She leaned closer until their foreheads touched. "If I had remembered to tell you earlier, you could have called me _Miss Christen_. It's much better than saying my title, right?

"So, you've figured me out. My title is the Saintly Deceiver but I also go by Miss Christen, and unfortunately I am only the _third most dangerous_ of the four spirits." The ivy helped her pushed down harder on his throat. "This is the first time you've met me in this form, huh, Matthew? I guess that also means this is goodbye."

As she continued to try to choke him, Matthew did his utmost best to resist her. He could not grasp on to why this was happening. He was sure he did not do anything wrong. He did not even do anything.

_"Have you heard of the Weeping Reaper, the spirit of the old bathroom?"_

_"Yeah, he sounds scary!"_

Everyone turned him into the Weeping Reaper on their own.

He did not do anything wrong.

He did _nothing_.

_I… did nothing…_

"That's right, Matthew, you did nothing," the Saintly Deceiver said. Whatever she was doing to read his mind, it seemed it was an open book to her. It scared him even more. And then, her expression changed to a mock pout with a babying tone to match. "You didn't even have the resolve to become a legendary spirit, no matter how much you loved imagining all of your classmates and teacher dying at your own hands! You had no determination to begin with, just fantasies that don't come true! It makes me oh so, so sick, sick, _sick_!"

He did not want to die. He did not want to die yet. He wanted to keep on living. This could not be the end of him. It was just not fair!

In the midst of his fruitless struggling, his eyes widened at a sudden thought.

Even if he continued to live, he would still be bullied by the living. He would continue to being teased and beat up at school, face "supplementary lessons" after that, and he would come home to an empty house. He would have to live such a life without taking a break because he was too much of a coward to do anything for himself. He was too weak as a human.

_Becoming a legend… would make me stronger…_ He agreed with that.

_If I become a legendary spirit, I can make my wish come true!_

The Saintly Deceiver was baffled by his new expression, but she did not show it, of course. Curious as to where this would lead to, she removed her hands to let him breathe. She stood up and stepped away from his body.

_If I continue to live as a "human", nothing good will come for me in the future. The only good I will ever receive will be if my wish comes true, and only I can make that happen. I can make it come true if I become a spirit, because my wish…_

The ground beneath him began to glow.

_My wish is for them… to all be dead!_

Light erupted from the ground, enveloping Matthew in it. The Saintly Deceiver was transfixed by this sudden power she could feel surging through him. She had transported them into a space where their minds were connected, even if she gave herself an advantage of letting her own mind have more power in this place.

She realized what was happening, and her "pout" returned to a smile. She was not even shocked when the light faded, revealing that Matthew disappeared with it. "How disappointing, I was about to finish you off."

The spot where the boy once lay broke apart as a large wooden cross rose straight up. He was pinned against it by the ivy on his wrists and ankles, but the thorns around his neck were gone. The crown of thorns remained on his head while blood finally stopped dripping and instead dried up against his face.

"But, you finally found it, didn't you?"

He stared down at the girl with half-lidded eyes. The blood was suddenly removed from his skin with a blink of his eyes, his wounds healed and his skin anew. He blinked again, and this time the ivy lost their thorns. They were only useful for keeping him tied to the cross now.

The Saintly Deceiver got down into a kneeling position and locked her hands together.

"I pray to God now to thank Him… for helping you find your resolve."


	4. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Christen tilted her head slightly to one side. "All I can tell you is that you'll die eventually, but time is running out." She smiled once more. "You should wake up now."
> 
> Fog emerged and blew in out of nowhere, clouding Matthew's vision. The thicker it got, the harder it was to see Miss Christen. The more she disappeared, however, the more her voice echoed throughout the entire mind space they shared.
> 
> "Enjoy what remains of your 'human' life, Matthew. I'll be waiting for you 'til then."

Ruth found Matthew asleep with his head on top of a book he was studying. She smiled softly at the sight, pleased to see that he was working hard to the point he had gotten sleepy. As much as she wanted to let him enjoy a well-deserved rest, she had to close up the library very soon because lunch was about to end, so she needed to wake him up.

Before she could reach out to even touch his shoulder, though, his eyes snapped open. She jumped back a small step. At least he was awake now. It would be easier to get him out before he could get in trouble, and she did not want that.

"You okay there?" she asked him. He lifted up his head whilst rubbing his eyes. He looked around to see where he was. "Mattie, you okay?" Finally he looked up at her and nodded. She smiled, extending her hand out to him. "That's good. It's almost time to go back to class now, so you should get going. All the other students left already. You should do the same."

"Hey, Ruth," he called out to her softly. Taking her hand, he heaved himself out of his seat. "What do you think about the Weeping Reaper rumor going around?"

Her eyes widened at his question. "Why the sudden question?"

"I've been hearing about it a lot, so I wanted to know your thoughts on the matter."

"… I see…" As she began to speak, she helped Matthew clear up his area. She took the textbook he was studying with the intentions of placing it back where he got it. "My family admires the four spirits currently haunting our school, according to the stories I've learned of as a child. When the rest of the family receives word of the Weeping Reaper, I'm sure they would admire him as well."

"Does your entire family believe in them?"

She shook her head. "Only a part of my family lives here, so the rest could care less about them, but the children do love it when we tell them the stories. At least they believe in us." She hummed and shrugged her shoulders. "Huh, I don't know how they'd react to the Weeping Reaper, though. If anything, they might be terrified of bathrooms if I tell them about it." The two of them shared a soft laugh. "I definitely believe in the legends, which is why I have the Saintly Deceiver doll with me."

When the textbook was put away, Matthew packed his things back into his backpack. He lifted it up and threw it over his shoulder. Ruth came back to smile down at him, even reaching out to ruffle his hair, which made them laugh some more. She led him to the entrance of the library to see him off.

"It's my turn to ask you a question," she said. "Do you believe in the legendary spirits?"

He blinked. "I guess I do, even if I don't know much about them." He glanced behind her to look at the doll sitting behind the counter. "I strongly believe in the Saintly Deceiver, though."

"That's good to hear, kid. Let's make a little shrine for her some time. We can even pray to her together whenever you're able to stop by."

"I'd like that."

Matthew left Ruth to continue tending to the library as soon as the bell rang, signaling for all students to head to their next class period. Once he was at the corner where he needed to turn, he looked behind him to see how far he was down the hallway from the library. His eyes softened and his lips curled down slightly to form a small frown.

"I hope you don't pray or make a shrine for me, Ruth," he whispered softly. He turned his head back and made his way to his classroom. "I wouldn't deserve your family's praise."

oOo

_If I continue to live as a "human", nothing good will come for me in the future. The only good I will ever receive will be if my wish comes true, and only I can make that happen. I can make it come true if I become a spirit, because my wish…_

He knew his wish very well. It was plain and clear to him. He desired it greatly.

_My wish is for them… to all be dead!_

"I pray to God now to thank Him… for helping you find your resolve."

The Saintly Deceiver – or Miss Christen, which he preferred to refer to her as – was pleased to see that he finally had enough determination to become a legendary spirit. She released the hold the ivy had on his body before helping him down from the cross. His drive was so great that he was sure she could feel such strong power welling up inside of him.

Matthew understood his worth to the world as a human now. He had no worth. As long he remained a human, he would not make any progress. He would only keep experiencing the bad luck already plaguing him.

"I am actually proud of you now," she told him. "You've found your resolve, and so all that is left is to wait for your time to come… which is actually coming soon." He remained where he stood in front of her. At first she only replied with a simple smile. Then she continued to speak. "Those in the council have been discussing your fate for quite some time. One of us happens to be a clairvoyant, so we used him to predict where and when you'll die. Whether or not you officially become the Weeping Reaper is up to your choices in the future."

"What do I have to do to become the Weeping Reaper?" he quickly asked. As far as he was aware of, it could be easy for anyone to claim the title created for the legend he started. His voice was not identified on that night. Anyone can take that position. Now that he understood his position, he could not let that happen.

"Apologies in advance, Mattie, but I cannot tell you that. The clairvoyant told us to obey this one rule, otherwise the future would change. If I were to tell you the information you now wish to know, then your decisions may alter in order for you to become the Weeping Reaper at a sooner pace." She narrowed her eyes, her smile becoming a smirk again. "I can sense your determination in your heartbeats. I felt them when I was sitting on you, choking you, trying to kill you so I could devour your soul. Your heart was no longer pounding from fear, but from hatred towards your classmates and teacher and your desire to kill them."

Miss Christen tilted her head slightly to one side. "All I can tell you is that you'll die eventually, but time is running out." She smiled once more. "You should wake up now."

Fog emerged and blew in out of nowhere, clouding Matthew's vision. The thicker it got, the harder it was to see Miss Christen. The more she disappeared, however, the more her voice echoed throughout the entire mind space they shared.

" _Enjoy what remains of your 'human' life, Matthew. I'll be waiting for you 'til then._ "

oOo

Classes continued on and Matthew barely paid attention to any of the lessons. He thought of what Miss Christen told him when she knocked him into a deep sleep state and entered his subconscious. She told him to enjoy the time he had left while he was still alive. It was basically her way of telling him to "live life to the fullest".

But, he did not have the will to remain a human.

What point was there to "enjoy life" when he was doomed to die anyways?

 _If that's the case,_ he thought, _then I'll do one more thing while I'm still 'human'._

He lifted his head up to stare at his next objective, the target of the one thing he wanted to accomplish while he was still alive.

Irvine did not notice him as he taught his class.

oOo

"The Weeping Reaper, huh?" Irvine asked Ruth. They were having a coffee together in the staff lounge. School had just ended for the day and they were the first two to arrive. The man took a sip of his coffee with vanilla cream and sugar. "So that's the name of that new legend going around?"

Ruth nodded cheerfully. She was surprised to find out that Irvine had not been paying attention to this new legend forming over the past couple days. It encouraged her to take it upon herself and teach him what she knew about the spirit so far.

She turned to him and made her voice deep and creepy-sounding.

"A ghost is said to haunt the bathrooms of the abandoned school building not far from here," she said. "He can be heard, weeping and crying out for his story to be listened to once he senses someone in his territory. Once he lures them in…" Making sure Irvine had set his cup of coffee down next to hers, she jumped out of her chair so she stood over him. "HE POSSESSES HIS VICTIM AND KILLS THEM!!!"

Her attempt to scare the teacher did not work. He merely looked up at her from where he still remained on his chair. It was a shame, really. She was hoping she could scare him into falling backwards or _something_. Crossing her arms, she pouted slightly like a child.

"You're no fun, Albert!"

Irvine chuckled softly. "I'm sorry, but I don't really believe in those types of stories." He checked the clock and hummed softly. He downed the rest of his coffee, making sure not to spill on himself. He stood up, picking up his work bag with him. "Please excuse me while I use the bathroom. Then I'm going to leave."

"Oh, don't you worry, as long as you don't spend _too long_ in there, if you know what I mean!" Ruth returned to her seat and laughed softly with her hand over her mouth. Her acquaintance followed suit before he exited the lounge. "Have a wonderful evening, Albert!"

"Likewise to you, Ruth."

They waved to each other before Irvine left, walking down the hall until he reached the bathrooms meant for the staff only. He entered the farthest stall from the door and set the cover over the toilet seat so he could sit down. His work bag now hung by its strap on the hook on the stall door.

Propping his arms up with his elbows pressing against his knees, he buried his face in his hands with his fingers apart so he could still see the floor. His body shook slightly, slowly picking up in how terrible it was getting. Small droplets of sweat rolled down the temples of his head.

_It's Matthew, isn't it?!_

While discussing the new legend that popped up a couple days ago, he was putting pieces together after discovering how familiar it sounded. First he learned it took place at the abandoned school; he suspected nothing at first, as many students tended to go there as a test of courage. Next he learned where the spirit was found: the bathrooms; he was then hoping that he was overreacting at this, but he was scared that maybe the boys who went there on that night found Matthew. He concluded that it must be Matthew based on how the Weeping Reaper was described.

The Weeping Reaper was said to be, as the name suggested, crying in one of the stalls near the end of the bathroom; unless he was mistaken, he usually took the boy to the fourth of the six stalls. The voice was said to be male, but because it sounded hoarse and dry, it could not be recognized; at least he was able to be relieved about that.

Still, the story fit what must have happened on that night after he left Matthew alone.

Any worrying thoughts vanished as his eyes widened at a realization which dawned him.

 _It took place after I left_ , he thought. _That means no one saw me leave and no one witnessed what I did to Matthew!_

That was right. If that boy had managed to see Matthew and avoid a concussion, then his face would have been described, but there have been no details on the physical appearance whatsoever. But no, he did not see him and he still hit his head, so his mind resorted to making up that story. At any rate, Irvine was safe from being caught bullying his own student.

He moved his hands from his eyes to over his mouth to hide the soft snickering he could not hold back. This was too perfect. With all the bullying and harassment, he had a feeling his student would not be able to go down the right path as a person in society, but he never would have guessed that someone like him would ever make it as a _legendary spirit_. Such a thought made him burst out laughing and he was glad he was the only one in the bathroom at that moment.

Once he had calmed down, his arms relaxed so that his forearms rested on his lap. He was still hunched over, just less tense than he was in the beginning.

Now that this story is all over the school, students would start coming to the abandoned school building in order to investigate the mystery of this Weeping Reaper. He was sure most of them would be frightened by such a spirit possibly haunting the bathrooms, but there are those who would be led there by their curiosity and bravery. If he continued to meet with Matthew there, they might get caught. He could not let that happen.

Irvine decided it was best he told Matthew to stop meeting him for a while, at least until the situation had eased and the buzzing of those rumors has simmered down.

… At the thought of that, his blood began to boil. He gritted his teeth until the top and bottom sets ground against each other. He could easily say that the rumors will stop, but when exactly will they?

The man had developed an obviously unhealthy obsession over Matthew which he managed to keep secret. He liked the way he was so easily intimidated and so easy to push around. He liked _being able_ to intimidate him and push him around. He liked the fear he placed into those cerulean blue eyes and he liked coloring his skin in all sorts of bruises and scratches and all, which ranged in different sorts of colors.

He could barely tolerate those times where he had to be away from Matthew, allowing that boy to go without his "lessons" for a day or so. Therefore, he was not confident he could ever put an end to this madness he admittedly started.

Remembering the camera, he reached up and pulled it out of his bag. He searched through the history to find the footage he took when he told Matthew that it would compensate for the accident he unintentionally caused in the music room. He selected the Play option to view it, making him smile darkly.

_Such beautiful music, indeed…_

It was possible for him to put an end to all of this, and he could always say simply, "I'm done with this." All he had to do was say that, and they would not have to be tied together this way. They could both return to a "normal" life, where he would just be that boy's teacher, and perhaps with some words to the other students Matthew would not have to face this suffering for any longer.

He placed the camera back in his bag, contemplating over what he should do.

_Things could go back to normal… but then I'd go absolutely CRAZY!!_

When he first took the job here after graduating college a year before this school year, he had big plans. He was going to make a fair amount of money as a way of hitting the ground running. This was a good career choice because he thought he was well qualified to "guide children into adulthood", as he had put it during his interview. He wanted to get along with his students and be a role model in their eyes.

This naïve thinking led to harsh consequences. Soon he had to constantly face massive amounts of paperwork, though he did not mind this at first because, after all, it was for the sake of his students so they could learn and grow. But then things took a turn downwards. He was worked hard by those incompetent office staff. He had to face the complaints from parents, where he must simply bow his head in apology. This daily routine made him snap so many times because he knew that even after the end of the day, the stress kept coming in like tidal waves.

What he wanted was relief. It was unlikely he would find it by resorting to alcohol, drugs, or smoking, the way other adults do. He wanted some form of relief that would not make him sick, something he could use when he needed to let out some steam.

_"Alright, class, I would like you all to introduce yourselves one by one down each row. If you don't want to say your last name, then that's fine by me; I have all of your names on our class roster anyways. Don't be shy now!"_

_When the first row on his right was finishing up introductions, the last student stood up whilst straightening his shirt. He at first hid his face behind his dark blond hair, but he soon tilted his head up so the rest of the class could see him. Irvine could see from his desk at the front of the class near the whiteboard that he had gulped._

_He was strangely thrilled by the look the boy gave. It was hiding obvious fright, but he still managed a slight smile. This boy intrigued him already._

_"M-My name… is Matthew."_

Then later on, a week or so after the first day of school and the beginning of his second year of teaching, Matthew was found being bullied by a couple other boys from another class. As a teacher, of course Irvine had to be of help. He managed to get the boys to apologize and then he had asked if Matthew could ever forgive them.

_"Can you find it in yourself to forgive them while they apologize?"_

_"Yeah, it's okay."_

Irvine was thrilled once more by that face of his, now half tear-stained, half relieved. Seeing the face he made after being bullied…

_I couldn't help but want to bully him too._

But of course, he would not dare lay a hand on a student like that. He had a career of being of help to his students. He would not have dared beat someone, especially someone of this boy's age.

Then again, that was _before_ the accident.

_"Help me, sir."_

When the man found Matthew with that face of desperation, calling out to him for help, tears running down his face, it drove him over the edge. He just had to have him crying like that even more.

On that day, he found relief in the boy by beating him in the old school's bathrooms and making him do humiliating things. Day after day he got him to meet up there to continue their "supplementary lessons" together. The more this continued, the more he realized that he could not spend a day without relief from Matthew.

_That's why I have to be relieved today! I must be relieved!_

_Yet oh, what's this? There's a new legend forming in this school!_

_This is the Weeping Reaper's fault! He had to show up!_

_And what's worse, the Weeping Reaper is MATTHEW!!!_

He was furious now. If he could not have Matthew because of the Weeping Reaper becoming popular, he would be pushed over the edge even more so that he would become even more insane than he already was. He needed to find a way around this.

He just had to.

"Oh, hey, afternoon, Albert!"

Irvine was washing his hands when another teacher entered the bathroom. He turned his head and offered him a welcoming smile. They nodded in acknowledgement of each other before he returned to washing his hands and the other man went off to one of the urinals.

"Did you hear about that Weeping Reaper story, the one that's been going around the school lately?"

"How could I not?" Irvine replied. "It's everywhere!"

"If this keeps up, it might become a problem with the students' learning. I'm sure they'll get over it, though, since kids tend to lose interest in things eventually, so the commotion should cool down soon."

"Yeah, I hope."

Irvine left the bathroom without drying his hands, letting the water drip off and make a thin trail on the floor outside.

_This will end very soon, I'm sure of it._

oOo

He stood at the entrance to the abandoned school building. Night had fallen after he went out for a small bite to eat to wait out the time. Seeing that the coast was clear of any students wandering around, he entered the building, eyes already adjusting to the darkness.

It was not like Irvine was going to come here to do something he would regret later. After all, it was not Matthew he was going to be meeting.

The one he was going to meet would be the Weeping Reaper. The spirit, he has done more than just caused a fuss throughout the school in a matter of two days. He had taken the form of his dear student Matthew, an unforgivable crime in his eyes. That is why he must do whatever it takes to peel off that monster's flesh until he was no more. Only then would he get Matthew back.

He would tear the monster off limb from limb like a true warrior, if he must.

Reaching the bathrooms, he walked slowly as he went deeper inside to not draw out any loud sounds. His footsteps were barely audible, fortunately. It was easy to sneak up on the boy sitting against one of the side walls of the stall he and Matthew would usually have their "lessons" in.

"Well, it looks like I found you," he cooed.

He looked at the boy who was not Matthew, but a spirit taking the form of him, curled up in a ball on the floor. He wondered to himself how he should start tearing him apart until the real Matthew would come back. There have been a few times where he would need to resort to this act, so it seemed he would need to perform it tonight. This may be the key to destroying this monster.

Before he could reach his hands out, though, the monster spoke with Matthew's voice.

"Mr. Irvine, can we talk?"

Irvine was taken aback as the boy stood up from where he sat, still leaning back against one of the built in walls to separate the stalls. Sweat rolled in beads down his face while he stared at him nervously. Perhaps the monster did not take the form of Matthew, per se, but simply possessed him. He assumed this, for the real Matthew would not speak in such a serious tone.

"What is it, Matthew?" he asked with caution. "Is something the matter?"

"Yeah, something is the matter." His legs shifted slightly. "Can you stop this already?"

His eyes widened. What was this? What was the Weeping Reaper making him say?!

"Why the sudden change, Mat-"

"I'd like to end this. I'm through with being pushed around by you."

"You can't do that!" Irvine exclaimed. His voice echoed throughout the bathroom. He rummaged through his bag to take out the camera he held the footage of Matthew on. "It'll become a problem if this goes out to the public! Besides, you still have a debt to pay."

"I've never thought of trying to figure out the math behind my debt until now. That was pretty stupid of me, don't you think?" Matthew took a small calculator out from his pocket and used the moonlight to see the numbers from the results he figured out earlier. "It's been eight months now, and I heard a teacher's pay should be around two thousand seven hundred dollars for each month. If you're using only a third of your paycheck, then that means you're saving up nine hundred dollars every time. The violin costs around five thousand dollars, right?" His eyes darted to the side to look at his teacher without turning his head. "That should have taken less than five months to pay instead of eight. My debt was paid off a long time ago.

"And besides that, about the camera…" He turned his head this time to look up at Irvine. His face read seriousness, while the man's face read nervousness. He could tell he was desperate to continue this routine, but he would not have it. "Wouldn't you get in trouble, too?"

Irvine chuckled rather loudly, which was unlike his usual self, but that was more of a façade anyways. He placed the camera back in his bag and set that on the ground beside the boy's backpack, which he brought with him. He stepped over until he was now standing in front of him, making their height difference very noticeable in hopes of intimidating him.

"On the contrary, Matthew, you'll be the only one who'd get into trouble if this is shared because I make no appearance in the video." He had him now. He had him right where he wanted him. He wondered how scared he was under that mask he was using to conceal his true self, the one forced over his face because of that damned Weeping Reaper. "Even my voice can be edited somehow, so there wouldn't be any proof of me being there!"

"Huh, is that so?"

Again, he was shocked by the calm answer he was given. _Matthew was always quiet and timid! He always did whatever I said! Why must he change now?_

"Well, then that means I have no other choice. I'll tell the ones who see it that the one who filmed me…" He turned his head so that he could face his teacher once more. His eyes, usually so soft and pleading, were now hard and glaring at him. "The one who filmed me was you, Albert Irvine! I'll use your full name!"

 _Right, I've forgotten the most important part of this… This isn't Matthew, but the Weeping Reaper controlling him._ Irvine gritted his teeth and his jaw clenched. _If that's the case, then I have no other choice._


End file.
